Decline and Fall

There are many addictions in the world. I admit, I'm not the most strong-willed of beasts. If it comes to treasure, I tend to go a little bit hazy around the edges with gold-lust. For the most part, though, I manage to push on through my everyday life, even if those Cash 4 Gold adverts tempt me with the idea of warehouses full of ex-catalogue nine carat wonder. Even talking about it is making my talons twinge.

But in the past few months, I may have slipped. Not a little slip, like an alcoholic who licks the Christmas pudding for that sweet brandy taste. No, I took one step onto the road and found myself four months later in a catatonic state in a rehab facility in a quiet mountain location.

It's all Blackpool's fault. Las Vegas may be renowned for it's gambling facilities, the brilliant lights against the desert backdrop, but Blackpool is known for it's three-lightbulb illuminations and knock-off Eiffel Tower. I thought I would be safe there. I hadn't reckoned on the two-pence machines. You put one in, and sometimes it knocks another one out, so you put another one in, and it looks so close to teetering and giving you a sixpenny jackpot, and another, and another, and another...

Effie said that when she finally got me out of there, all I could do was move my pathetically wasted arms mechanically and twitch every time I heard a metallic noise.

I'm not allowed back now.